The hellhounds in Darkveil City were only the tip of the iceberg. Earthquakes from the volcano devastated the land, and cults kidnapping unsuspecting victims in service of their gods. Hell, Cyran and Del had nearly been kidnapped and sacrificed by mad acolytes raving about an entity they called Vulcadreus…

And now this.

Cyran was not entirely knowledgeable on the monsters of myth and legend. If he were being entirely honest he’d not heard of Ur-Beasts until one was spotted rampaging outside of the city, slaughtering criminals lurking in the Deadwoods. With all the pandemonium of the recent months, the resurgence of creatures that rarely ventured from their lair was hardly a concern. The fact that normally reclusive beasts of the god were provoking and attacking mortals, on the other hand, was.

And one of those spirits was inching closer and closer to Darkveil, killing fleeing criminals wherever it went. Such a dangerous beast could not be allowed to venture closer to the city - and based on the pattern of bodies left in its wake, it didn’t care where it was going so long as it indulged in its wrath. It fell on the shoulders of those who were powerful and competent enough to take care of the problem before it grew any worse.

Cyran decided against taking any apprentices with him this time. Training was one thing, but this was far beyond what they were capable of dealing with. Besides, given who he was traveling with, Cyran figured some confidentiality was necessary. He’d not gotten much of an opportunity to speak alone with Zarius since their meeting at the Rookery - somehow, that thought made him nervous. He could not shake the feeling that something was utterly wrong, or that all of these small events were leading up to something horrible on the horizon. He almost felt like if Zarius, who was more abreast of current events, were to voice anything, it would make these things all the more real. He would do anything Zarius asked of him within reason, but that thought made him nervous.

But along the same vein, there were few that he trusted as much as the fighter by his side. Zarius was a schemer, and he often had machinations that Cyran wasn’t aware of, but he at least knew when Zarius was lying or withholding information. And there was hardly a more competent fighter. Traveling with the fellblood made him feel a little more at east about the divine beast they were to face down in protection of the uneasy peace of their home.

As the two traipsed silently through the woods, Cyran turned to Zarius and broke the silence. “I’ll admit I don’t know much about these creatures. Do you have any idea what abilities they possess?”

---

SPOILER: Click to show

Quest Name: Uh Ur
Participants: Two or more
Location: Anywhere
Post Requirements: 8 post per person, 250 words per post
Reward: +1 Mystical Archive Ticket, +1 Ur-Beast's Breath
Description: A rare, almost never seen Ur beast has been spotted running lose across the region. These are mythical beings said to be born from the gods, and normally sit dormant in their lairs. However with the recent influx in magical energy and the change in Charon's flow, these creatures have been disturbed and are now acting out. They are causing all kinds of troubles for locals and must be dealt with. The problem, they are extremely dangerous and put up one hell of a fight. If this beast is not handled, it could cause the death of countless lives.
Special Requirements: At least one member of the group (PC only, no NPC's) must be knocked unconscious during this fight.

Seems like there was some new weird thing threatening Darkveil every week on the regular these days. Hell hounds, Origin Matter, earthquakes, Ur-beasts, what next? At this rate if something burst out of the volcano he would not be surprised. Especially given how active the thing seems to have been lately.

Perhaps the appearance of these Ur-beasts was connected somehow to all that. Perhaps everything was connected in one way or another. It was hard to tell for certain. 

Much like Cyran, Zarius also opted to leave everyone back in the city. There were more than enough things to keep them busy, and he couldn't afford any of them getting hurt and being out of commission for extended amounts of time. There was too much to get done and it almost felt like there was some sort of looming deadline to it all. 

But again, like Cyran, it was easier if it was just the two of them. They both have kept plenty of secrets from one another, with Cyran even still insisting on using code names for his apprentices around the fellblood's own trusted allies.

He wouldn't criticize the man for protecting his own as there was always a chance their friendship would not survive forever. Their ambitions may one day put them at odds, but at least for now they can work together. 

"Not particularly. Monster hunting is more up Gerhart's alley than my own." Zarius waves his hand dismissively.

"I had Eameia pull what she could from the Force's archives, but even with being a part of the guild they are very stingy with what information they let get out and about."

His experiences so far with the Winged Expeditionary Force have left him more than unimpressed. The Fighter's Guild may be full of meat heads, but at least they weren't self-important pricks. 

It was annoying and draining to have to deal with them on top of everything else. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't starting to feel overwhelmed with everything as of late, and that his own energy was wearing concerningly thin. 

There was an odd tension between the two as they continued through the bleak Deadwood. Any sound was muffled by the layer of soft ash dusted over the surroundings. Their surroundings are colorless which only adds to the uncomfortable atmosphere. 

Gods.

It was bad enough that things were strained between himself and Caedes, he didn't need Cyran to also be uneasy in his presence as well. 

Eventually, he can't take the oppressive silence and speaks up again. 

"How are things with Miss Delaela?" 

That had to be what was up. There was nothing else it could possibly be given what information the fellblood is aware of. 

Cyran huffed out a breath when Zarius admitted he didn’t know much about Ur-Beasts either. It was a small comfort to know that at the very least, both were in the dark on what they would be facing. A small comfort, because Cyran didn’t fancy the idea of facing a raging, divine beast without an idea of what it was capable of. And Eameia couldn’t find anything either… that didn’t bode well. A frown tugged at Cyran’s lips at the realization that the Force was not willing to share information with its members. His membership in the guild was still up in the air, but it did not make him happy to hear that the powers that he didn’t see fit to equip their monster hunters with the necessary information to survive.

“That doesn’t bode well.” He murmured to himself, though his annoyance was only skin-deep. “I admit I’m not impressed by the responsiveness of the Expeditionary Force.” Given the resurgence of monsters in the area, they seemed more concerned with the fame and glory of hunting rare, vicious beasts than ensuring the survival of the people from the threats that plagued them. It was not a promising sign.

As they walked and talked, Cyran slowly began to relax. So many heavy thoughts weighed on him, after his and Del’s run-in with the cultists worshipping that foreign entity, Vulcadreus. A god that they desired to bring back into this world once more, and now these divine beasts stirred into action… Cyran could not help but wonder if this was in response to the god’s stirrings in this area. But these worries about the state of the world were not exclusive to Cyran. Zarius was just as exhausted as him, stretched thin by everything that needed to be taken care of.

They were all feeling tense. There was no need for him to feel so on edge around someone he considered a friend.

He forced the tension to bleed out of his shoulders with a heavy sigh before turning to offer Zarius a small smile. “I suppose we’ll just both have to remain on guard. I’ll watch your back.”

The change in subject to Del was not much of a surprise. Cyran was aware that the conversation would drift that way, given what Eameia had learned, confirming suspicions Zarius already held. There was no denying that objectively, Del might be a danger to them. That was a risk that Cyran had accepted. But he did not expect as much from his friends.

He wondered how much Eameia had told Zarius about Del’s kidnapping.

“Things are… as well as they could be, given the circumstances.” He said, twisting the hand on his finger. “I’m not sure how much you know about the attempt on her life. She was kidnapped by a handful of cultists.” Cultists who’d caught wind of the Crucible. “I went to rescue her, and - well, everything turned out okay, but it was a bit tense.” He’d nearly bungled it all up and gotten himself kidnapped, too.

“I’m surprised she agreed to… a relationship after that.”

This was inching towards territory that the two usually didn’t enter. It wasn’t that they weren’t friends, but they just didn’t discuss that kind of stuff like lovestruck schoolgirls. Zarius was a professional, the kind of person who skirted smoothly around subjects in his personal life he didn’t feel like discussing, and Cyran was a quiet secretive person by nature. But Zarius was a young man - and even a leader needed to be human every once in a while. He needed to be able to talk to someone.

“Have you ever fallen in love, Zarius?” His tone was curious, but light - willing to drop the topic if it made Zarius uncomfortable. “It’s a funny feeling. It makes you want to do things you know are risky or irrational, because that person is worth it. It’s scary, but it’s a lovely thing, because you know they’d do the same for you.”

"You and me both, but I suspect they cannot continue on like this for long considering all the folks they have managed to recruit. I doubt people like Gerhart or Miss Astrid will hang around for long if they feel disrespected. I will admit that I mostly joined just to gather information on the guild itself. Furthering their goals, regardless of the intentions, is of little interest to me."

Really it was ending up being more of a pain in his neck than anything else at this rate. Gods. Well, at the very least perhaps he could pick up some useful resources and have a few more connections to leverage if need be. 

"I appreciate that. Gods know I need all the help I can get these days."

He takes a long breath and slowly lets it out. Though he was tired and too busy for his own good, it was a reassurance to have Cyran's support. The older elf had life experience Zarius would never accumulate due to the whole not being an elf with a stupidly long life expectancy. Though Cyran had never lorded that over the fellblood, he was still aware of the gap of relatability between them and respects any wisdom the hunter is willing to impart on him.

Cyran is a trusted ally, and maybe even more than that if the fellblood was honest with himself about having actual friends and not just pawns. After all, if Cyran was expendable, why did it upset him so much to hear about how he nearly died?

"Eameia filled me in. I am sorry I was not around to assist."

The debriefing had been a shock. They had already taken some fairly drastic measures to ensure there were eyes on Del, her forge, Cyran, and the orphanage to prevent something like this from happening in the first place. It was possible they had spread their resources too thin given that many of their own number were preoccupied with numerous jobs as of late. Or perhaps someone amongst their own ranks had played some part in creating an opening for this cult.

It was all very concerning and the investigation that followed the incident, whether Cyran was aware of it or not, had been exhaustive and time consuming. Eameia had been particularly taxed, having to comb through dozen of people's memories to determine if any of them had betrayed their trust. Results came up inconclusive.

Digging up more information on this cult had also been hit or miss, but they did learn a few concerning tidbits only confirmed by Cyran's report to his sister after the fact. This cult was a mix of religious fanatics and your average run of the mill citizens. The wave of had swept up many impressionable and desperate individuals after news of the main pantheon's death reached across Charon. While the capitol had done its best to quell the voices of scholars and those who first learned of the truth, their efforts mainly focused on the cities which left the rural populations more vulnerable to being influenced by those sowing new and dangerous ideas in to the already superstitious populace.

These zealots in particular seemed to be the primary suspects of many of the recent kidnapping attempts across Charon as well as have ties to Darkveil specifically. 

It was the name Vulcadreaus that stopped Zarius' speculations in their tracks. That name shook him to his core in an indescribable way. It was like remembering some long forgotten memory repressed for ages, yet he is certain he has never heard it before.

Thankfully Eameia had more context to provide. Oddly enough she had already been researching something related to all this for a reason she refused to elaborate on. She could be annoyingly stubborn when she set her mind to it, but he respects her judgement enough to leave it well alone. 

The information she had managed to dig up suggested that these Elder Embers, these strange fanatics were remnants of the true Ashen Fathers. There was evidence to suggest that the name had been co-opted by the criminal syndicates, but originally referred to a religious sect worshipping this Vulcadreaus entity, but that was about as much as they could dig up currently. What Vulcadreaus was exactly was still a mystery, but it was clear its followers believed in sacrifices of blood. 

Cyran and Del were lucky to have survived. The fellblood is deeply, truly relieved that they did.

"Not to undermine the severity of what happened, but there is something to be said about how surviving a life or death scenario can bring people together."

At least that's what he's heard, it's not like he had any personal experience with that or anything. Nope. None at all.

Cyran's next question nearly makes the fellblood lose his footing from the pivot. "What? No. I-" he stops himself. 

It makes you want to do things you know are risky or irrational...that person is worth it...they’d do the same for you.

He considers those words for a moment. There was someone he'd done risky and irrational things for. Someone he justified as being worth acting in such a manner. Someone who had already proven they would do the same for him and his ambitions. 

There's a conflicted look on the fellblood's face. Was that really what was going on? He'd never really given much thought to even the possibility of falling for someone. He didn't have the time, and it was irresponsible. He had too many enemies, and his family and his business came before all else. Even close friends. He couldn't trust anyone else to take on the burdens he shouldered with him. He just couldn't.

And yet...

He shakes his head. "I do not know." It was the most honest answer he could give to Cyran, fully aware the man was impossible to lie to. 

It did not surprise Cyran to learn that both Astrid and Gerhart had jumped at the opportunity to join the Force. Though given the inherent flashiness of it all, and the fact they seemed more interested in the glory of the hunt than helping people, Cyran didn’t imagine them being much effective in managing this rise in aggressive creatures they’d seen as of late. At the very least, he was comforted by the thought that there were people like Gerhart in the guild who were experienced monster hunters and genuinely cared about keeping people safe.

He suppressed a smile at the honest admission that Zarius had only joined to gather information on the Force’s intentions. He could not judge - after all, he’d been working to join the W.E.F. with mostly the same intentions. It had been Del to convince him to join the hunt, and Cyran had agreed mainly because he was interested in the cover and security that such a membership would grant him.

“I’m much the same, unfortunately.” He laughed. “I thought it would help my cover as a hunter.” He commented, referring to the lie he usually fed to strangers that weren’t in the business. With membership to the Force, it solidified that cover story - technically, it wasn’t a lie anymore.

He fell silent as Zarius expressed his apologies for the incident with Del and the cultists. Contrary to the smooth words he’d expected, Zarius was quiet, thoughtful. He genuinely seemed to regret that he hadn’t been there to help. They weren’t just empty platitudes.

Cyran shook his head, though there was a genuine smile on his face.

“Don’t be. Perhaps I ought to have waited for more backup, but I was panicked.” He shrugged. It was difficult to recall what he was thinking in that haze of worry and grief, but he remembered just wanting to raze their temple to the ground in his anger. “And in that panic I got sloppy.”

But, as he went on to explain, that was just how love made you feel. He was aware that his survival had been thanks to Del, mournful as he was to see her tap into the power of the weapon she’d once been, because he’d made careless mistakes. He acted without knowing what he’d been facing, and they had played on his weaknesses.

Cyran had been doing his best to investigate those cultists after the fact - how those Elder Embers had known so much about Del and himself. But with the surviving Embers gone missing, and Cyran’s lack of influence, the trail had gone cold. For now they remained a mystery. But his and Del’s relationship in the aftermath, surprisingly, was not.

“That’s not entirely inaccurate.” Cyran blushed. At the very least, though his feelings for Del had existed before the incident, it only solidified his trust and gratitude towards her.

His next question, on the other hand, nearly made Zarius fall over where he stood.

The fellblood’s first instinct was to deny, but something stopped him in his tracks. Cyran watched as a myriad of conflicted emotions flitted across his face, confusion and denial before eventually settling on something accepting. His answer, though short, was a genuine one. Spoken from someone who’d never considered they were allowed to have those feelings.

Cyran knew how that felt.

“Duty is not the antithesis of love.” Cyran said after a long moment of silence. “You can have one without neglecting the other.”

He paused. “Apologies for the heavy topic. I bring this up, because…” Cyran shrugged. “There’s a lot of uncertainty in the world right now. Everything feels like it’s falling apart at the seams. In the face of that destruction - when the world as you know it is no longer the same as it once was - there’s no point in depriving yourself of the things you want. Things that make you happy.”

Cyran stopped walking for a moment. Their forest surroundings were silent, save the whisper of the wind through the trees. The Deadwoods were a dangerous place, full of criminals lying in wait, and yet, he’d found comfort here after the destruction of Shade’s Valley, as Del held him in her arms while he cried. Despite it all, he’d found a sliver of peace.

“You’re a good boss, Zarius. I say this not only as your employee, but your friend. I think you push yourself to be poised and perfect every second of the day, but you won’t be lesser for it if you let people in. A partnership isn’t being two halves of a whole. It’s about being separate entities that complement one another and make you stronger for it. Del makes me stronger. But she also makes me human."

Here, he twisted the ring on his finger once more.

“If you think you’ve found that, then maybe it’s not so bad to explore it.”

Zarius would have taken advantage of Cyran's blush, if the elf hadn't blindsided him with that personal question. 

Damn, it would have been a great opportunity to tease the man. 

Instead, he now has to do damage control over the direction of the conversation and how uncomfortable he was now feeling. 

The temptation to refute Cyran and tell he couldn't possibly understand the situation is strong. He refrains from speaking those thoughts aloud though. Zarius was well aware that Cyran's age and life experience dwarfed his own lifetimes over. Making such a claim in front of an elf would just be insulting coming from someone not even in their third decade of existence in this realm. 

Zarius' gaze drops to the ground before his feet as they continue to walk through the Deadwood. He considers what Cyran is saying, but the words are not as reassuring as the elf may think. 

"That is all the more reason not to waste any time on such things." His retort is a bit quiet and subdued, he takes a breath and regains his composure before clearing his throat to speak more clearly. 

"Do not, misunderstand. I am not unhappy with my life. I made peace with the decisions I made about where my focus should be in order to best carry out my duty to my family years ago. I do not resent the role I play."

The hunter stops and the fellblood takes a few more steps before coming to a stop as well. He faces the man and eyes him a bit.

He scoffs and shakes his head. "You are both elves, you are hardly human."

His eyes flit drift down to the ring Cyran was fiddling with on his finger. Without having to ask, the fellblood can figure out the importance and significance of the piece of jewelry. 

Gods, he has fallen so hard for that woman. 

He puts on a smile, but it does not reach his eyes. A smile that Cyran was all too familiar with. A practiced grin meant to ease tension and mask intention or any honest emotion felt in that moment. 

"That takes time, time I do not have. There are far too many things that need my attention," he pauses and tucks his hands into his pockets as he gives Cyran a very pointed look. "Far too many people I need to keep safe."

Cyran knew better than anyone the danger Del was in, the danger the elf himself was in by association, and the danger everyone else involved with either of them were in by proxy. Even though Cyran would never ask it of the fellblood, keeping him, the orphanage, and Del was now all another item on the list of things to constantly be thinking about and making plans for. 

There was no resentment in that fact. It was just something Zarius was used to doing for his family, his friends, and even those he only intended to ever use as pawns in his schemes. It was part of building trust, gathering faithful connections, and ensuring there were people willing to throw themselves into danger at his request. 

Though the line between friend and pawn was thin, it was important to maintain that line, for his own sanity's sake. He couldn't afford to be compromised by infatuation, by his own loyalty being promised to anyone besides his family. It was a vulnerability he could not afford to have in the line of work he was in, in the society he was deeply entrenched in. Any weakness would be exploited to horrific consequence. 

Despite all that...there was still complications in that logical line of thinking. There was Cyran, his closest and most reliable friend. There was Eirynor, Snow, and Shael, whose livelihoods relied on him. There was Askr who was so naïve that the world would readily walk all over him. There was Kamille, who infuriatedly knew more about him than anyone else outside his family. And there was Caedes-

He catches himself before he can think too much about the changeling. Maybe around anyone else he'd let his mind wander there, but Cyran was too smart, too sharp, and clearly confident enough to bring these personal matters out into the open air between them. 

The fellblood shrugs and looks off to the side. 

"It would be unfair for me to engage in such a relationship with someone only to not be able to dedicate time to them."

Zarius’s short response told Cyran that he’d perhaps touched a nerve, or a line he wasn’t supposed to cross. Zarius was a private man, and Cyran had his own tendencies to keep to himself and withdrawal when spoken to. He took no offense that Zarius almost… shut down when the subject of his life and his feelings were brought up. Cyran rested a hand on the dagger resting against his belt - not Spell Slicer and Cold Steel, which were nowhere to be seen at the moment - and offered a small, sheepish smile.

“My apologies. I did not mean to imply that you’re unhappy with your responsibilities and your life. I’ve just noticed you’ve been a little more stressed as of late. You’re under no obligation to take my advice if you don’t think it helpful. But know that I offer it with your best interests at heart.” Zarius may not have had the near-infallible lie-detection senses that Cyran did, but the young fellblood would be able to tell that each word was sincere. Cyran rarely said things he didn’t mean, especially when it came to his friends. It was the truth - he cared about Zariu’s health first and foremost. Not his goals, but the person.

A bit of a paradox when Cyran was fairly certain that the ambition-driven man’s happiness was tied to his goals, or at least it was as far as Zarius himself believed.

Cyran paused when he noticed the plastered smile.

“You don’t have to pretend around me.” His voice was blunt and straight to the point, but this too was not unkind. “I understand that… well, this thing with Del has brought danger to all of us.” He understood the consequences of his actions. He accepted the danger. That didn’t mean Zarius did, or that the Fellblood wanted any part in the trouble when he already had so much on his plate.

“I’m sorry to have put you and your family in danger, however unintentionally. Like I said, love makes you do irrational things. I know that there are risks, but I’m okay taking that danger. I… if you don’t want any part of that, I won’t compromise your safety just because you’re associated with her by proxy.” Nor did he want Zarius to feel like it was his duty to protect Cyran. Zarius had wealth and influence that Cyran didn’t, but Cyran could fight his own battles, too. “You take care of your own people, Zarius. I think that’s noble. I’ve met people of high society with less honor than you. But if all this is stressing you out… I can take care of myself, too.”

He wasn’t certain if the words were any reassurance or not, but he felt the need to say them.

“And I want to help take care of you as well. I may not have the wealth or the influence,” Here, he huffed out a small laugh, “But at the very least I can be a listening ear when you’re stressed and do my best to offer guidance, should you need it.”

Cyran shrugged.

“I can hardly claim to be the most experienced but when it comes to matters of family and love I can give my two solars.” He wouldn’t be offended if Zarius didn’t want to speak, though. One conversation didn’t undo years of distrust towards others and stubborn self-reliance.

The tone of finality in Zarius’s voice, on the other hand, said he was done with this line of conversation. Cyran would take his words at face value, but not before pointing out, “And who’s to say you won’t find that person in the business?” He smiled. “We can be done with this if you want. Just keep an open mind. All I want is for you to find peace where you can.”

The fellblood was not a fan of being called out and his false smile quickly falls into something more neutral. For a moment, the fellblood's reaction is almost indignant, like a child that was just caught in a lie and was corrected. An odd reaction from someone who always did his best to appear approachable and polite. At the end of the day, Zarius still grew up being a spoiled rich kid with all of the entitlement and privilege, even if he didn't flaunt it in front of most folks.

Zarius scoffs. "You have nothing to apologize for. I was the one who told my sister to cast that spell on Miss Delaela. We cannot remove ourselves from this situation now. We know too much. There is not running away from it."

Not that he had any plans of running. Where would they even go? Darkveil was a criminal haven for a reason. For now, they were untouchable within the city. Well, not untouchable, but it was a lot harder for any authorities to come knocking at your door when the local authorities were easily paid off and any foreigners were targeted by the gangs. 

The fellblood shrugs a bit. "Besides, it hardly changes our situation. I was born with one foot in a jail cell and the other in the grave. The same goes for everyone in my family. We have always been in danger."

His father's reputation sealed all their fates long before any bearing the Rha'Oryin name were even born. If the man had been a cruel father, perhaps his children would resent him for all he has done, but that wasn't the case. Both of Zarius' parents had been incredibly loving guardians and they did all they could to prepare their children for living in their shadow in the harsh streets of Darkveil. Though Zarius and Eameia took to those lessons far better than Karize who was still a naïve pushover to this day. 

Zarius rolls his eyes at the suggestion that they did not need to worry about Del or Cyran's business. "Do not be ridiculous. Eameia would not allow it. She is quite fond of you."

The fellblood realizes that his mood is souring the longer the conversation goes on. He checks his attitude and takes a breath, nodding in response to Cyran's offer to keep and ear out or offer guidance. 

"I appreciate it. Thank you."

Cyran mentioning the fellblood could find someone within their hazardous way of life felt like a deliberate jab. Zarius shoots him a look. Did he know more than he was letting on? Or was it that obvious? No. He was overthinking it. Everything that had recently transpired between himself and Caedes were fairly private matters. The only person with any real reason to think anything was going on between them was Eameia. And Shael, but Cyran hadn't met the annoying teenager yet. Then there was Astrid...and Kamille...fuck. Those two would certainly gossip and use whatever scraps of information they have to back up their speculations. 

He shifts his weight uncomfortably as his face and tips of ears darken and feel hotter. 

"I-"

SNAP!

Zarius' attention whips around to the forest around them at the sound of wood cracking not that far from where they are. Had their conversation attracted the creature they came out here to find? Or perhaps their scent had been carried on the wind. Either way, they were not alone out there in the Deadwood. 

Cyran shrugged, only partially reassured by Zarius’s insistence that there was no turning back the past now that they’d opened the box. That much was true - there was no point in playing ignorant once you’d learned an unsavory truth, no matter how much you wished to. And Zarius was only acting how he thought he should, so Cyran could not begrudge him for acting on a suspicion in regards to a perceived threat from a virtual stranger, no matter what their mutual connections were. Still, the fact that they’d all accepted the reality of the situation for what it was didn’t mean apologies weren’t in order. Even to Del herself, who was not the same person she’d been when she’d been made a weapon and had a bounty placed on her head.

Zarius’s words, at the very least, were the truth. Cyran suspected he would react as such. Even with his parents’ influence he hadn’t gotten where he was today if he didn’t know how to spin adversity into opportunity. Even if he had the option to bury his head in the sand and run, Cyran doubted he would. Especially when it meant backing the sun elves under the crown he so despised.

Despite the seriousness of the conversation topic, Cyran managed a small, playful smile in return. “I’m rather fond of her, as well.”

He’d grown up an only child, and without many contact with the world outside of his own parents and eventually the woman that was to be his wife, but Zarius’s family and employees had been far more welcoming to him than his own flesh and blood had been. It was a nice change of pace to watch Zarius and his sister interact, and watch Zarius interact with the people in his employ. He was thankful, at the very least, to meet people he thought he could trust in this business. No one was wholly innocent or without their own machinations, but they could coexist together for the time being, and having that bit of piece was a rare gift.

Zarius’s mood, though, felt like it was turning dour from all the poking and prodding Cyran had done. Even as the fellblood composed himself, thanking Cyran for the words of encouragement, Cyran was ready to drop the subject and end the poor young man’s torment when Zarius paused, deep in thought. For a moment, Cyran thought he might have been comfortable enough with the assassin to share a bit of his own thoughts -

But the moment passed with a movement as slight as the snap of a twig, alerting both of the fighters to the presence of another creature lurking through the forest with them.

Cyran raised his hands, daggers manifesting in his hands in an instant in a burst of shadow. At the same time, a pair of dark, spectral wings burst from his back - not quite taking to the skies yet, but granting him mobility in the event that they were ambushed by something faster than them.^[1,2] Any element of surprise they’d likely garnered by being naturally stealthy was gone. A creature, most likely the Ur Beast, had spotted them.

Cyran closed his eyes, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.^[3] In a place as aptly named as the Deadwoods, there were hardly any living creatures around, which made it easy for him to sift through the ones that he felt in close proximity to him. Zarius, by his side… nothing where they’d heard the sound, which meant that the creature was still on the move, and fast. But there was something bigger behind them, a creature capable of spanning large distances in a couple of seconds. Cyran whirled on his heel, pointing his dagger in the direction he felt the movement from, hissing between clenched teeth to get Zarius’s attention. “There!”

It was a futile attempt to give them an edge - after all, a creature that seemed to resemble a winged serpent on clawed hind legs burst through the clearing, lunging for the both of them.

---

1. Summon: Possession
2. Bat Wings (Post 1/3)
3. Echolocation - Bat Wings

Zarius' eyes follow where Cyran gestures to just in time to see the creature bursting forth. He'd hoped that the pair of men trained to be stealthy would have been able to sneak up on the beast and get the jump on it, but that clearly was not going to happen now. 

Dodging to the side, Zarius shouts back at Cyran. "Go up! I will try to keep its attention down here!"

Cyran could likely take this down easily if they figured out its weak point. The challenge would be buying the hunter time to set up for the perfect strike. If he could keep the creature grounded and focused on him, that would be ideal. Of course that would probably be easier said than done. What even was this thing?

The fellblood dives to the side as the Ur-Beast crashes forward into the little gully they were talking in, making sure to pick up a rock as he tumbles out of its way. The creature sends a cloud of ash up into the air as it comes to a stop and swings its head around on its long serpentine neck just to get plunked in the face with a stone. 

"Down here, snake."

The Ur-Beast hisses in reply. 

Foolish mortals. Do you think I do not understand your tongue?

The voice echoes throughout the Deadwood and seems to worm its way into their minds.

Hearing it speak is a shock and does not bode well for any attempts at coming up with an on the fly strategy. Zarius faces down the creature, ready to move as needed to avoid its strike. But the Ur-Beast looks down on him as if the threat he posed was insignificant. 

You think yourself cunning, like a jackal. Then a jackal you shall be.

The creature's eyes flash and it exhales a cloud of blue tinged mist that floods the gully. Zarius steps back and covers his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket, but it does little good. The mist clings to his skin and cause a tingling sensation to spread across his body. 

Suddenly his whole point of view shifts to being much closer to the ground than before. Did he fall? He looks down expecting to see his hands, but instead sees skinny legs ending in short clawed paws. He yelps and jumps back in surprise only to skitter in the ash and land on his side. 

What the hell was going on??

The Ur-Beast looms over the fellblood who was now nothing more than a mutt scrambling around in the drifts of ash. It flicks its long forked tongue before turning its attention to Cyran. 

Little bat, that is all you are.

It draws its head back and exhales another cloud of blue mist towards the hunter, threatening to engulf him in the mysterious magical cloud.

Perhaps in hindsight Cyran should have accounted for the probability that a divine beast would be capable of more than mindless rage. It was only natural that a creature bestowed with remnants of Ginma’s primordial will would have thought and intelligence and even the capability to perform magic stronger than anything the assassin or fellblood could muster.

But he wasn’t thinking about that.

At Zarius’s order, Cyran took to the skies, Spell Slicer and Cold Steel clutched in a white-knuckled grip as he waited for an opening. He could tell what Zarius had in mind, and the best thing he could do was stick to the shadows and strike at vulnerable points while the fighter fought the Ur Beast head on. While Zarius provoked it, trying to get it to move, allow Cyran the best opportunity to assess it for weak points, the hunter watched the movement in its scales for any gaps in the plating, the points of its wings that would be the best places to break to limit its mobility. His vision, thankfully, remained unimpeded by the ash kicked up by the serpentine creature.^[1]

But then the beast spoke.

Not in the traditional sense, but the kind of booming speech that seemed to resonate in the recesses of Cyran’s mind. Cyran suppressed a grimace, frozen still as he rubbed at his temple. He was not afraid of telepathic creatures - he’d fought the origin matter some months ago with a similar ability - but the plain common speech, the way it stared unmoving at Zarius, as if it didn’t even perceive the fellblood as a threat, that made dread grow in the pit of Cyran’s stomach.

He couldn’t allow this beast to do whatever it was planning.

While it stared down at Zarius, speaking to him with disdain evident in its not-voice, Cyran started weaving a spell in the air. It was one Zarius might recognize, if he were to look up and see what Cyran was planning. If this beast had the power of a god, then Cyran wasn’t going to take any chances in suppressing it. He needed something strong. He needed Scern’s spell.

As he wove the enchantment, though, magic seemed to simmer around the Ur Beast for the briefest moment - and mist spread through the air, reaching out for Zarius faster than the fellblood could flee. Cyran watched as he covered his mouth, attempting to protect himself from breathing in the fog, but it seemed to do him little good. Cyran watched in horror as Zarius disappeared, replaced with a hound that looked utterly surprised that it was a hound.

Was that… Zarius?

Cyran grit his teeth and hastened his movements, not wanting to give the Ur Beast the opportunity to get away. But then the creature turned to him, and he heard that same condescending voice, speaking to him as if he were nothing more than some small obstacle in its path.

And then, moments later as the mist seeped into him, Cyran felt small.

He flew forward, trying to raise Spell Slicer and Cold Steel, Scern’s spell abandoned in the face of taking care of the Ur Beast, but he halted in his tracks when he realized that there were no daggers in his hands, nor did he properly possess the right hands to wield a weapon anymore. In place of the once-deadly assassin was, as the Ur Beast had promised, a bat too minuscule to pose much of a threat at all.

What the… he opened his mouth to say, but all that came out was a little squeal of confusion.

The Ur Beast nodded, as if satisfied with its work.

These lands once belonged to us, not man. And they will once more. This is an inevitability.

Cyran flapped his wings, attempting to chase after the creature, but it didn’t even see the two as worth bothering with anymore. And there was nothing he could really do to stop the creature from walking away. Cyran huffed, fluttering closer to the ground where Zarius was, tilting his head towards where the Ur Beast had gone as if to say, what now?

They were certainly in no state to continue the hunt - at least, Cyran wasn’t. Zarius had claws and fangs made for ripping out the throats of his enemies, but in this state, Cyran wasn’t really much help at all.

---

1. All Eye

Zarius whirls around in a circle trying to figure out what exactly has happened. He looks around for Cyran to possibly get assistance from the hunter, but is not able to see him anywhere. 

Oh, this was bad. This was very bad. How was he supposed to do anything against this creature?

Then...

It leaves.

What?

Wait, WHAT??

No, no, no, no, that's even worse. How was he supposed to get back to normal?

He's starting to panic when a bat flutters down near him. It takes him a moment to realize that the bat was no ordinary bat, and the both he and Cyran had been transformed into animals. That realization does not help with the flurry of panic that he feels. His mind races to try and figure out what they were supposed to do now.

They couldn't go after the Ur-Beast like this. They didn't stand a chance. So they had to figure out how to get back to normal. How do they do that? The Ur-Beast wouldn't likely do it willingly. But they can't fight the Ur-Beast. They need help. 

Zarius is shaking a bit until he finally takes a breath to calm himself. 

Okay. First thing's first, they need help. The Ur-Beast will have to wait. 

The borzarius gets to his feet, a bit uncoordinated having to walk on four legs. He looks at the batran and realizes quickly that they can't even communicate with one another, how would they even communicate with those they know? His ears flatten against his head. 

Shit. This was very bad. 

He looks around at the ash covered forest and notices his own footprints on the ground.

Ah. Maybe they could write a message. Alright. That was worth a shot.

Borzarius drags his paw through the ash and spells out DARKVEIL HELP before pointing at it with his paw to Cyran and letting out a little yipping bark. 

Gods. Is that how he sounds now? This is humiliating. 

But enough of that. They needed to get out of the forest before some other dangerous creatures find them. Borzarius starts treading through the ash back towards the city. First stop would be his family's manor. If there was anyone who could turn them back to normal, it would be Eameia or his mother. The issue would be getting to them and relaying a message, but they could worry about that once they get there. 

Canine Zarius looked about as stressed as Batran felt, staggering around on his paws while he tried to think of a plan. They were in no state to take on the Ur Beast, not with tiny fangs and claws that would be no use piercing tough snake skin. At this size, so little that even Borzarius felt massive, Cyran felt especially weak in a way that he hadn’t experienced in a long time - not since before his exile. He’d been softer then, incapable of wielding knives and conjuring darkness at his fingertips. He’d been as threatening as, well, a little fruit bat. And now he was that small again.

It was not a pleasant feeling.

He shoved aside his feelings as Zarius started sketching something out in the dirt and ash with his front paws, having found a way to communicate more efficiently while neither of them could exactly speak. Eventually, Cyran could make out the word Darkveil and Help - and he knew immediately what Zarius was hinting at. They had no shortage of connections in the city, people that could help them break this… curse? Even with Cyran’s experience with, he’d seen the primal magic taking hold of them, but no true spell was cast.^[1] It was something far more ancient, almost as if the Ur Beast had simply reached out to them with his will and bent reality until their true forms had been lost. Whatever it was, they needed help breaking it. Cyran couldn’t do it himself. Couldn’t do anything as a bat.

And then Zarius let out a little impatient yip and Cyran broke out into laughter. At least, he tried to. In this form it was more like a little squeal that was more befitting of this tiny form. If he could have blushed, he would be as red as a cherry tomato right now. Gods, he hoped no one he knew recognized him like this…

But there was a very good chance someone would. Zarius’s sister, Eameia, was a powerful mage. If Cyran could hazard a guess as to what Zarius had in mind, he’d want to find her and get her to reverse this magic somehow. He could follow that trail of logic… even though he was certain that she would relentlessly make fun of them for getting trapped like this while she tried to help. That was fine. A little humiliation was secondary to getting back to themselves, and taking care of the Ur Beast before it did this to anyone else. Cyran nodded his assent, taking off in the air after Zarius, fluttering his wings with all his might…

Or at least he tried to.

As it turned out, when one was as little as a bat and the Deadwoods were so big, it was difficult to keep pace with a jackal for long periods of time. Especially when Cyran was so unused to staying in the air for so long. After about an hour of traveling, trying to reach the borders of the dead forest, Cyran could no longer keep himself suspended in the air. He huffed, descending until he was sitting on Zarius’s back, mortified that something as simple as a little walk had been enough to tucker him out.

He’d just sit here for a moment, to catch his breath, then he’d get back into the air and follow Zarius’s lead once more.

How embarrassing, though. One of Darkveil’s most influential criminals and an assassin with no small amount of Renown himself, weakened to the point where even making it through a forest was a struggle. He hoped Zarius was faring better than him, though knowing the Fellblood’s pride, he was probably taking this even worse than Cyran.

---

1. Expanded Mind (Astral Soul I)

Traversing the Deadwoods as a doggo is definitely odd. The more he walks, the more Zairus gets used to being on all fours, but his coordination is still a little shaky when it comes to jumping over any exposed roots or going downhill. He definitely faceplants in the ash drifts more than once and each time it happens he gets a snoot full of soot which sends him into a fit of sneezing. 

This was absolutely humiliating and demoralizing. Thank the gods no one other than Cyran could see him floundering around like this. 

As the pair reach the edge of the Deadwood, it's both a relief and incredibly dreadful. The city of Darkveil loomed in the distance and it looked far more foreboding than normal. Wandering the city streets as defenseless animals was less than ideal and had unique risks that would be difficult to deal with should their luck be worse than it already was. Zarius could not climb walls as a pupper, so he'd have to be extra careful with the path he chose to use to get to his family's manor. At least there was less of a chance of anyone following them there, so they could go a more direct route. 

Zarius startles at the sensation of Batran landing on him, the hair along his back standing on edge and his ears pinning against his head. Once he realizes it's just Cyran taking a rest, he huffs. 

Ridiculous, not only was being stuck in this form inconvenient enough, but he was so much more skittish to the point where just being touched spooks him. They really needed to fix this, and fast, before he loses his mind from anxiety. 

Continuing on, the pair move into the city outskirts. The houses here are further apart and not as dense, meaning there was less cover to hide behind, but there were more escape routes. Zarius does his best to keep his head low and duck behind buildings or under carts whenever he can. 

His ears keep perked forward to listen for anyone or anything that could be a potential threat. Batran had the advantage of flight and being able to hide well out of any danger's reach, but Borzarius was stuck on the ground where he had to worry about getting kicked, chased, cornered, or run over with a wagon. 

What's more is that the city looks almost like a completely different place from this lower point of view. Everything looms overhead, especially as they move into the more densely packed districts further into the city center.

Moving through the city carefully takes more time, but it's necessary to avoid running into as many threats as possible. Eventually the pair arrive in a more affluent district of the city. There's a particularly nice manor with some private grounds surrounding it and a wrought iron fence bordering those grounds. Towards the front there's a pair of lightly armored guards at the main gate into the grounds.

But Zarius does not go that way, instead veering off to the side and skirting fence line until he gets to an area with more foliage to use as cover. He looks for a place to squeeze through the bars, but he's not entirely sure he'll fit. 

Dammit. He would not be stopped by a stupid fence.

Determined to get inside, he picks a gap and pushes his head through. Alright, it his head goes through, the narrow shoulder and ribs of a jackal should also fit. In theory. His attempts to push through do not go well. He's just a smidge too wide and there's no easy way to get any leverage to force his way between the bars. 

Ugh. Okay, time for a different plan. 

He backs up, but his head does not come free. 

Oh no. 

He tries to turn his head and pull back at a different angle, but it does not work with the back of his jaw and skull catching on the bars. 

Zarius growls and struggles for a bit, alternating between pushing forward or pulling back, but it was no use. He looks around for Batran and can't help but whine out of frustration. If he was stuck, then it was up to the assassin to get into the manor and locate help. 

It was probably a good thing that out of all Zarius’s companions and allies he’d taken this journey with, it was Cyran who’d ended up transmogrified by his side. Mostly because he was the least likely to lord it over Zarius’s head or use it as embarrassment blackmail. Then again, considering who they were setting off to find, Batran didn’t think that their state would honestly stay a secret for very long. Eameia was talented, but she had a proclivity for teasing and Cyran had a feeling they wouldn’t hear the end of it.

Not that he was embarrassed at the idea of being caught as a bat. It was lucky that Cyran knew how to fly firsthand, or else this would be a hell of a lot more excruciating and awkward. Even as it was his lack of gravity and exceptionally bad eyesight had him bumping into things - namely Zarius, and the surrounding trees of the deadwood - often. No, what he was more ashamed of was that he’d gotten caught before he managed to finish his spell. Not that he had much time to dwell on that at the moment. Now that he was such a minuscule thing, and they were approaching the city of Darkveil, he had little time for lamenting what he’d done wrong in favor of focusing on survival. Even as he perched on Zarius’s back for a momentary rest (which resulted in him accidentally startling Borzarius who in turn startled Batran in an unfortunate comedy of errors), Cyran’s senses were on overdrive, trying to use echolocation to piece together where they were in a world that was much bigger and far louder than he was used to.

It was perhaps also a good thing that they’d decided to visit the manor belonging to Zarius’s family first. Cyran wasn’t sure he could navigate his way to Shade’s Valley right now even if he wanted to. Every stray person who glanced their way was a threat, and every loud sound an attacker to the poor, anxiety stricken bat-sassin. All he could do was hover behind Zarius and keep an eye out for any dangers. At one point, a curious pack of children with pebbles clutched in their hands strayed too close to them, and Cyran had to dive back onto Zarius’s head to startle him into running away before they were ambushed. How sad it was that now the biggest threat to their lives was a handful of gangly kids. But they made it through the crowded downtown streets to a more secluded area, one with nicer homes and fences and all manner of lawns kept meticulously clean of ash. This must have been where the money lived in Darkveil.

Rather than stroll right up to the front gate of what must have been Zarius’s home, though, the jackal started padding towards a part of the fence surrounded by foliage where no guards would particularly be paying attention to a couple of stray animals. Cyran flapped his wings in excitement, proud that they’d managed to come this far, when-

Oh.

Well.

That wasn’t good.

Batran took the opportunity to perch on Zarius’s nose while his canine friend let out a whine, clearly frustrated at his lack of opposable thumbs to get him out of this predicament. He certainly wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, which meant it was up to Batran to be the one to go find Eameia. Cyran articulated with his wings before momentarily wrapping them around himself, as if to say, look at me - how am I supposed to do this on my own?

But right now Zarius needed them. Which meant Cyran needed to suck it up and figure out how to get help. Step one: find Eameia. He could figure out how to communicate with her later. He sighed, or made a noise as close to a sigh as a bat could get, before taking to the skies once more. By now the sky was dark enough that no one really paid attention to the tiny winged creature passing overhead, flapping his wings with all his might in an attempt to get closer to the fancy manor when OW.

… Gods was he glad no one was around to see him hit that window face first.

Batran shook off the disorientation before fluttering to the next window, then the next, praying that one of them might be open, or that he might spot a familiar fellblood lounging in a chair or reading a book or something. Occasionally he spotted u familiar figures going about their day, but no sign of Eameia, until…

Was that her? Batran could sort of make out a fellblood in one of the cornermost rooms, but it was difficult to tell who they were from this distance. Oh, well. Didn’t matter. Right now, they were Cyran’s best hope. Desperate, the bat scrabbled at the glass loud enough to make audible scrabbling sounds, hoping whoever was in that room would open the window long enough for him to fly in and get their attention.